


So, my Friend, I have a Crush on You.

by skele_smol



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Best Friends, Crude Humor, Cute, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gay wrapped in gay and rolled in candied rainbows, Louis is also mentioned, Minnie is a bitch, Minnie is mentioned, Romance, So... much... FLUFF, Strong Language, Violentine, cute gay babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22820569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skele_smol/pseuds/skele_smol
Summary: After a string of disastrous first dates, Clementine realizes that maybe she was looking for love in all the wrong places.
Relationships: Clementine/Violet (Walking Dead: Done Running)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 121





	So, my Friend, I have a Crush on You.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, needed a fluff break after allllllll the angst I've been drowning in. So enjoy this super-soft fluff fic and the special I made for it lol.
> 
> Warning: Strong Language ahead.
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated and treasured.

So, my Friend, I have a Crush on You. 

_Fuck this! Dating is a metric fuck-ton of grade A horseshit._

Clementine can feel the first burn of frustration prickling in the corners of her eyes as she wraps her arms around herself a little more tightly. Head bent low, she weaves her path through the crowded sidewalk, ignoring the other pedestrians bustling past her. She is so tired of meeting people, tired of talking about herself and tired of every new face that smiles at her in bright interest during the initial meeting and introductions, only to then dull before the inevitable and feeble dismissal of ‘you’re a nice girl, but…’ or the ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’

Christ, she swears if she hears either line one more time, she’ll puke.

She swings herself blindly around a corner, narrowly dodging some fancy asshole in a suit with a quick side-step and a mumbled apology, ignoring the huff of impatience thrown back at her. In her pocket, her phone gives a merry little chirp. A new notification from Louis, most likely, and almost certainly some obnoxiously optimistic bullshit cheering her on with her newest suitor or a cat meme that he finds hilarious and she really is not in the mood for.

This latest date was a fucking disaster. They hadn’t even gotten through the movie previews before the guy had decided to lean over to her ear and ‘let her down easy’, telling her he wasn’t looking for anything serious, that this was a hopeful hook up to him with an additionally optimistic ‘maybe, a fuck buddy’ scenario attached.

Needless to say, she immediately dumped the entire contents of the overpriced soda into his lap and stormed out of the darkened theatre and into the crowded lobby. Ignoring the hushed whispers of the teens working the concession stand, her fingers already flying over her phone’s screen and tapping out a quick message to the one person she trusts enough to see her misery.

-The date was a bust. Can we hang?-

She didn't even bother to look up as she walked out of the building, her eyes fixed firmly on the three little dancing dots on the screen as her friend typed out their reply.

-Sure. You want me to come get you?-

Back pressing to the warm bricks of the theatre’s rear wall and ignoring the raised eyebrow of the guy from the ticket booth, sneaking in a quick cigarette break, Clementine shoots off another message. -Nah. I need some air. Wanna meet at the park?-

The next response comes quicker than the last. -Sounds good. Be there in 15-

That was almost thirty minutes ago now, the park apparently being further away from the movie theatre than Clementine remembered. But, finally, from across the road and still engulfed by the bustling bodies now waiting to cross over the busy intersection, she can see the high iron rails that donned the red brick walls and the tops of the trees caged within. And then Clementine spots Violet slouching against the wall outside the park entrance. Her hands are shoved in her jacket pockets and her knee is bent as she presses her worn boot against the brickwork behind her.

Clementine then looks down at the plastic bag, sagging beside her blonde friend, and smiles. Violet always brought the good snacks with her whenever Clementine needed cheering up, and ever since her string of disastrous dates had struck, that meant almost every other weekend the two girls would pig out on chips and sodas, ice cream and candy, and bitch about how much men sucked.

Well, Clementine would bitch. Violet was more comfortable with her single status and men were never really on her radar. Part of the whole bad-ass lesbian club that the blonde was a proud, card-carrying member of.

Then Violet’s eyes lift up from inspecting her boots and, somehow, they manage to find and lock onto Clementine’s within the crowd and her lips tilt into an easy smile. Clementine’s cheeks immediately flush hot. The thin sweater that she picked out for the date -because it hugs her curves in all the right places- is suddenly much too warm and the snug-fitting jeans too tight, and her heart lightens to skip and twirl behind her ribs even as her stomach still churns heavy with the same disappointment that she always felt after a date gone awry.

Violet is her best friend. Has been for years. In high school, the two girls had shared a lot of mutual friends and naturally gravitated toward each other the more they hung out. And even after graduation, with their interests taking them to different colleges, the two still talk daily and meet up at least once every weekend.

The lights change and the crowd rolls up around her like the gentle tide, carrying Clementine out of the fond memory and closer to the lounging blonde. Closer still as said blonde pushes herself away from the wall and bends at the waist, snags the grocery bag with her wrist and steps into her familiar sauntering stride, meeting Clementine halfway with a warm smile and a warmer. “Hey.”

The bluesy rasp of Violet’s voice winds into her ears and the fluttering of Clementine’s heart is no longer a delicate waltz but more a swarm of butterflies clamouring for escape. And when the blonde gently touches her hand, the older girl’s long and slender fingers threading through her own, her skin tingles and the breeze of butterfly wings becomes a storm of gossamer feathers.

_Violet is my best friend._

Clementine’s teeth find and bite at the edge of her lips as her gaze flicks, first down to their intertwined hands and then up to Violet’s face where her mind stalls and her breath catches. Violet has such pretty eyes. They aren't simply just the lightest of greens, they are a mosaic of dark green flecks and threads of greys and silvers that burn with a molten flame in the sunlight. “Hi.”

And then there is her smile. It’s only a small smile, the gentlest of upturns to the edges of her lips, but that’s enough to send her heart somersaulting into her throat. And, every time that Clementine sees it, the air feels thicker with a tenderness that couldn’t help but make her breathe slower and calmer, deeper and happier.

_Violet is my best-_

“Come on, Dragonfly.” The fingers between hers tighten in a reassuring squeeze. Firm yet so gentle and warm as they pull Clementine back into the moment. Violet’s eyes are always so different in moments like these, softer and more open than Clementine had ever imagined eyes could be. “I’ve got a bag of your favourite snacks and _you’ve_ got a story to get off your chest.”

Entering the park, a delicate breeze ruffles through Clementine’s loose curls, like gentle fingers and a fond touch. That same breeze toys through Violet’s ashen locks, lifting her lighter strands away from her neck and flicking the side-swept bangs into her eyes. They walk in step with each other along the flat cement paths edged with neatly manicured verges and lovingly tended flowerbeds, and pass the clear glassy lake that was home to hundreds of colourful koi, greedily nipping at the sandwich crusts that picnicking children excitedly throw out for the ducks and swans. There are a few heads that turn as the girls pass by, their critical or curious gazes fixing on their laced fingers, but most are far too interested in either watching their children or something said by their own companions to pay the two girls much mind.

The further into the park they walk, the deeper into Violet’s side Clementine tucks herself. Even going as far as to duck under their joined hands and drape the blonde’s arm over her shoulders, smiling softly when the limb subtly tightens around her and Violet’s thumb idly sweeps over her knuckles. Despite the frustration from the failed date still curled up low and heavy -a fat serpent- in her belly, it flutters at the feeling of her body pressed up so tightly against Violet’s. Appreciative of the warmth and comfort the simple gesture provides.

_Violet is… my…_

_… Oh, my God!_

It’s like Clementine’s brain switches on for the first time, realization jolting through her insides as though she were hooked up to the mains. She likes Violet. A lot.

She is so naturally comfortable here, pressed against the blonde girl’s side. And she is now painfully aware that in one of the girl’s hands is a bag, stuffed to bursting with as many of _her_ -not _their_ \- favourite treats as Violet could lay her hands on while the other tangles around her fingers more intimately than that of any other person that Clementine can remember. She also remembers just how protective Violet is of her. How there had been that one time, in her senior year, where the small and slender blonde had risked expulsion to square up to a guy, twice her size, who wouldn’t accept Clementine’s rejection and broken his nose.

She remembers their dorky little slumber parties when they were in their early teens. Either at her place or Louis’s, but never at Violet’s. She remembers when she found out the reason why too, when an almost fifteen-year-old Violet had climbed through her bedroom window and collapsed in her arms in tears. Sniffling out that she can’t go home because her dad doesn’t like that she likes girls. She remembers Violet staying at hers for a few days, both girls pulled out of school while Lee and Violet’s mother worked together to make arrangements for the blonde’s older cousin to come and collect her. She also remembers how frantic she had been, worrying that the woman would take Violet home to her parents, and the relief when Violet had texted her saying that she would be living with Molly now.

And she thinks about how her heart flutters whenever Violet smiles at her or calls her by that special little pet name of hers -Dragonfly.

“Alright, this looks like a good spot.” 

Clementine blinks herself out of her thoughts and finally takes notice of where Violet has brought her to. It’s quiet here. Peaceful. The shrieks and squeals of the kids at play barely noticeable beneath the gentle shushing of leaves caught in a dance, their sun-kissed edges stroking eagerly over each other. The afternoon sun dapples through the green canopies with a golden flame, but there’s a slight bite to the breeze that ripples its touch over the soft swaying grass and the brunette finds herself wrapping her arms loosely over her chest for warmth.

For a long moment, Clementine is transfixed by the beauty of the spot. Her eyes are drawn to where the structured beauty of the man-made park gives way to the raw and wild beauty of nature, and it takes her another moment for the gentle tapping of Violet’s knuckles on her bicep to break through her quiet admiration, the blonde finally able to catch her attention.

“Here,” In Violet’s hands, and being swiftly pressed into Clementine’s, is the older girl’s jacket. The brunette blinks at the garment in confusion, her head tilting toward her friend who simply offers her a lop-sided grin as she thumps down on her ass, her plaid over shirt fluttering upwards, caught in the breeze. 

“You looked cold.” Violet stretches her legs out, crossing them at the ankles as she leans back on her palms and peers up at Clementine, her green eyes glittering beneath tousled platinum strands. “I always liked that sweater on you. Makes you look cute.”

Clementine’s fingers curl tighter around the jacket in her hands as she glances down at her outfit, her eyebrows lifting as she slowly realizes that the outfit she picked out for her date was never for the guy she was meeting, but for afterwards. For Violet. She was dressing to impress her friend. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

Buying herself an extra moment or two to settle her jittering thoughts, Clementine swings the jacket around her shoulders and threads her arms into the sleeves. It’s still warm with Violet’s residual body heat and, taking advantage of Violet’s distraction as she rustles through the grocery bag, Clementine tucks her nose against the jacket’s collar to inhale the sweetly spiced scent - _Violet’s scent_ \- woven into the fabric with a tiny smile.

Then she blinks, her own private thoughts making her blush.

_Oh, my God! Am I really such a fucking disaster?_

Carefully, Clementine folds her legs beneath herself and sits beside the blonde in the grass. Her tawny eyes are wide and curious as she watches Violet sifting through the treats. She takes the chocolate bar that Violet hands her and watches the blonde pinch a family-sized bag of chips -the wavy kind that she knows Clementine likes best- between her teeth and balance a couple of cans of soda in one hand as she pushes the grocery bag aside. Watercolour irises lift and catch her smoke-amber gaze and the next thing that Clementine is aware of is how Violet’s head is suddenly in her lap, her thigh a makeshift pillow for the blonde, and a can of her favourite soda pushing its way into her slightly shaking fingers.

“Okay,” Violet pops the tab on her can, takes a careful sip and then rips open the bag of chips. She pinches one crisp potato slice delicately between finger and thumb while her other hand dangles the packet above her head, bouncing the salty snacks lightly until she feels Clementine reach inside. When the brunette’s hand recoils, Violet drops the open bag on top of her chest so they can both reach and happily crunches into her selected chip. “So what happened with this weeks Romeo?”

Clementine grimaces at Violet’s phrasing and pops her own chip into her mouth, her eyes closing as she relishes the saltiness that rolls over her tongue. “Come on, Vi. The way you said that makes me sound sad and desperate.” She swallows and reaches for another chip. “This is only the third guy.”

“Only.” Violet mimics and chuckles low in her throat. Her own hand poised to dive into the bag and snag a new chip as soon as Clementine had selected hers. “He’s like the third in -what?- seven weeks. And, not that I’m complaining, but-” Another crunch bounces between the girls as Violet happily chews. “My wallet is starting to feel the sting of these bi-weekly pity parties.”

To anyone else, it might sound as though each of Violet’s remarks is said unkindly. But to Clementine, and anyone else who knows the blonde, who is close to her and talks with her as often as the brunette -and maybe Louis- do, they would know that talking with Violet is like a beautifully chaotic dance. Nothing is off-limits and, when she talks, it’s not just with her words but her eyes and her crude humour as well, and the more relaxed she feels, the more candid and playful her word choices become.

“Not my fault the guys at my college suck.” She misses this so much during her week. Misses Violet, and the smile that grows on Clementine’s lips as she engages herself in the banter is one of genuine happiness. “Bet the ones at yours aren’t much better.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Violet’s attention shifts to the pigeon watching them, coming closer in its odd little bobbing way. It alternates between pecking at the ground and observing the girls with its head cocked and its beady little eyes curious. Violet flicks a chip at the bird and grins as it flaps away with its prize. “Outside of Louis, I don’t actively _choose_ to hang out with many other guys. And, according to the ones I do hang out with, I come across very, _very_ gay.”

The laughter that slips over Clementine’s lips is soft and carefree as she gently cups a hand to either side of her friend’s face. Tilting her head and directing the blonde’s gaze to find and hold her own as she speaks in the most serious tone she can muster with her laughter tickling her throat. “Violet.”

Clementine can see Violet’s mouth twitching, can see that she’s fighting a smile and her guts decide that now is the perfect moment to give a quick little twist and remind her that she is attracted to this girl. Clementine’s gaze flees from watching Violet’s lips to her top instead, and that only makes things so much worse. In the sunlight, it was kinda see-through, not explicitly so but, if not for the trio of stylishly distressed stars crossing over the sheer dark fabric, Clementine would be staring directly at Violet’s chest. Her brain stalls and her ears heat. The blonde has never had many curves, but to Clementine, Violet didn’t need them. She was attractive, sleek and athletic and whatever roundness she did have, she wore well.

After an agonizingly long moment, Violet arches a single brow, her eyes burning into Clementine’s as though she can see right through into the girl’s mind. “Clementine?”

The suspicious lilt that peeks through the humour in the blonde’s voice kickstarts Clementine’s thoughts. The smile that had been slipping from Clementine’s face returns though, this time, it feels a little forced. And her eyes shift back to the sharp lines of Violet’s features instead of the gentle slopes of her breasts, though she actively avoids meeting the blonde’s gaze. “Hate to break it to you, but you are super gay.”

_And I’m clearly gayer than I thought._

Violet’s breath comes in quick little gasps between her laughter, pulling Clementine out of her head and her spiralling thoughts and anchoring her into the here and now. She always says how much she hates her laugh, but Clementine adores it. Every time she hears the blonde giggling through her nose, snorting adorably, her world feels like it makes a little more sense and it shines a little brighter.

“Oh, no. However will I break the news to Louis and the kids?” Violet threads her fingers through Clementine’s and guides the brunette’s hands down to rest on her shoulders. “Promise me, Clem. Promise me that you’ll take them and raise them right. They can’t ever know my secret and Louis can’t be a single parent.”

And then it’s like Clementine can breathe again, and in the very next moment, she is laughing too. It bubbles up her throat and rolls over her lips in thick, fast waves of unrestrained delight as her fingers gently squeeze comfort into the blonde’s shoulders. “Oh, my god! You are such a dork.”

“Yeah, but you love me though.” The easy way that Violet says it makes Clementine’s heart flutter and her throat close around her tongue. But she smiles and nods as the blonde peers up at her with wide, earnest eyes. “And it made you laugh, so win-win?”

“Yeah. Win-win.” Clementine murmurs softly, wiggling her fingers free of Violet’s grasp to drag through the grass instead. Her thoughts feel jumbled, like a shell caught in the push and pull of the tides as they tumble over and over each other. “Vi?”

“Mmm?”

There’s a soft bloom of nervousness, not quite panic, rising behind Clementine’s ribs, and all the reasons not to offer up the thoughts in her head to Violet come flooding in. She knows that the feeling will either grow or fade with what she chooses to say. If she backs away now, she knows that she’ll have to face the whole procedure all over again another time and she’d be lying to herself if she were to say that she wasn’t curious. 

“Are girls easier?” She catches the way Violet’s brow raises quizzically at her and she stutters a quick tag on. “To date, I mean.” She quickly drops her eyes away from Violet to once again watch her fingers idly scoring through the grass instead. “The guy I met up with today, he was looking for a hookup, not a relationship and I don’t want that.”

She can feel Violet’s eyes on her, fixated, her curiosity building until the blonde sighs and shoves herself into a sitting position at Clementine’s side, ignoring the chip bag that slips from her body as she moves. 

“I wouldn’t know honestly. Sometimes, I guess” She stretches her legs out again just like she had the first time that she sat down, though this time she leans back on her elbows instead of her palms, catching Clementine’s own curious gaze peering at her from beneath thick lashes as she raises the soda can to her lips. “But there are plenty of girls out there just like that guy, just looking to get their clit licked.”

The carbonated bubbles scorch a path into Clementine’s chest as she inhales instead of swallowing. Blazing along her nose and stinging her eyes as they water and she coughs hard to clear her lungs. “Holy fuck, Vi!” She splutters and spits the syrupy liquid from her throat as her mind reels, desperately trying to process her friend’s words. “That’s a horrible way of phrasing it.”

“True though.” With her head tilting over her shoulder and mischief smoking the clear peridot eyes, Violet slants a flash of teeth as she smirks Clementine’s way. “Guys are looking to get their dicks sucked and girls just want-”

“Alright! Okay, I get it!” It feels like someone set a fire in Clementine’s cheeks. The heat sears through her blood as her pulse roars in her ears, and it takes the younger girl a minute or two to compose herself again. Shuffling her scattered thoughts back into some kind of order before she dares ask her next question. “How are things going with that girl you told me about? Minnie. What’s she like?”

The regret that floods through Clementine’s body and washes away her embarrassment, is immediate. And when she sees how the blonde tenses up and hears the tiny, quiet voice that she now speaks in, her guilt borders on painful. 

“Oh… um. She, uh…” Violet’s eyes slide to the side, away from her friend as her shoulders crawl to her ears and then drop with a sigh. “She wasn’t who I thought she was. She wanted sex, not a relationship.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, the atmosphere between them is quiet enough for one single squeal to drift over to them from the playground, then Clementine nudges Violet with her elbow and offers the blonde a weak smile and the chip bag as a peace offering. “So, did you?”

Violet eyes the bumpy yellow potato slices for a moment, the tension melting from her shoulders as she fishes out a couple. “Did I what?”

“Sleep with her.”

“Oh. oh, no. No-” The blonde’s cheeks flush pink and her eyes are nervous as they flit away. And, despite the blonde’s denial, Clementine feels as though a fist has forced a path down her throat and into her chest, taken grip around her heart and is slowly squeezing.

Violet’s lying to her.

Or at the very least, she’s not telling her the whole truth.

Clementine knows Violet well enough to recognize that the rosiness in her cheeks is more than embarrassment, this is the girl shamed. And she knows that, even if she can’t see it, Violet’s blush colours her pale skin all the way from her hidden ear tips, down her shoulders and along the arms that now curl around her drawn-up shins.

“-well, I almost did.” Her admission is whispered into the backs of her knees and, to Clementine’ surprise, she peers guiltily at her from over the top of her denim-clad limbs. Anxiously assessing her body language before she sighs, reluctantly uncurls from her huddle and continues. “We were at some frat party, hammered out of our skulls. She told me how much she liked me and then she, uh, kissed me. Felt me up. But then, when we went somewhere quiet to continue, she puked and passed out, and I freaked out and bailed. The next morning she calls me up ranting about how I’m a cocktease. That I lead her on, was down to fuck and then just left her. I tried to explain to her that I lost my nerve and changed my mind and she scoffed at me. Called me a prude and said that I owed her.”

For the most part, Clementine is careful to keep her outward expression appropriately offended, but inside her outrage is oozing through her organs as a cold venom and poisoning her thoughts. She wants to spit cruelties and threats against Violet’s tormentor but the blonde is already upset enough and having the brunette go off on a tirade is only going to make the blonde feel worse.

So, instead, she rips open the chocolate bar that Violet had handed her right as they’d first sat down together and breaks it in half. There’s a feral edge to the grin that twists her lips as her mind conjures a crude image of Minnie’s face breaking under her fingers before she blinks and passes the still wrapped half of the bar to Violet with a sarcastic. “She sounds a charming girl.”

A single, bitter sound barks from Violet’s throat as she breaks a morsel of chocolate wrapped caramel and nougat from the wrapper and pushes it into her mouth. “You’ve got a strange way of calling her a cunt, Clem.”

There’s the faintest curve of a smile on Violet’s lips and Clementine can feel her own return it but hers creeps up higher and brighter. She side-eyes the blonde with a wicked glint in her smokey irises and sinks her teeth through the treat melting in her fingers. “Well, I would say, ‘She is what she eats’, but...”

Violet snorts a thin trickle of dry laughter through her nose. “Yeah, well, she didn’t get to eat mine.” She sighs again, but this time it’s more wistful and melancholy rather than anxious or derisive. “So, yeah Clem. Some girls are just like that guy from today, they’re just looking to get their dicks wet.”

“Guess so.”

For a moment neither girl feels the need to speak. They are content to simply sit with each other, enjoying the quiet and the others company as they watch the world pass them by. But Clementine struggles to shake one particular thought that worries her. The way that Violet said Minnie had reacted to her change of mind, the names she’d been called and the manipulative language used, it clearly bothered the blonde. A lot more than she was letting on. And, if it bothered Violet that much, it bothered Clementine too.

The brunette scoots herself closer to the other girl and slides her arm through Violet’s, hooking her elbow as she lays her head against her shoulder. “You know she’s full of it right? Drunk or not, you can say no at any time and she has to respect that choice. You’re not obligated to spread your legs for her.”

“Yeah, I know.” Violet snuggles in and tilts her head to rest atop on Clementine’s as she hums. “Still nice to hear someone else validate you and support your choice, though.”

Having Violet wrap herself as tightly around Clementine as she does around her, it feels like the brunette’s blood both wakes up her brain but also intoxicates it. And when she feels Violet’s arm squeeze around hers a fraction tighter, the muscles losing their tension as her friend’s body melts into her own, her breathing finally evening out, Clementine closes her eyes and decides to broach a subject that she knows could send the blonde spiralling again. “Why did you even get drunk in the first place, Vi? You hate drinking.”

“I dunno.” Thankfully, Violet doesn’t retreat from either the question or Clementine, she simply shrugs her shoulder, jostling Clementine’s cheek and her head with the gentle motion. “Drunk Violet is fun Violet.”

“If you say so, but I’ve met drunk Violet too. Drunk Violet is horny Violet, who then does dumb shit.” There’s no heat in Clementine’s words, no ridicule, just fondness and affection. She slides her hand along Violet’s arm until she finds the blonde’s fingers and squeezes them gently. “This Violet, sober Violet. The one who doesn’t feel the need to impress people, she’s the fun Violet.”

Violet frowns, her eyes lowering to watch the way Clementine threads her fingers between hers. Fascinated by the nimble skips and twists as the digits dance around each other.

“You’re the only one who thinks that way.” Her shoulders slump and her eyes slip away from their intertwined hands to cast themselves down in a mournful gaze. Her mouth settling in a semi-pout. “No one likes sober Violet.”

“You know that’s not true. Your friends like sober Violet. _I_ like sober Violet.” Clementine reaches her other hand out to slide through the soft buttery yellow strands that fall over the older girls eyes, pushing them back and smiling when the watercolour emeralds shift to watch her movements. “I like sober Violet a lot. She makes me feel safe.” 

It’s in that exact moment, the moment where almond eyes of tawny gold lift away from hers, that Violet catches the way that Clementine’s tone turns. It shifts from comforting and becomes almost coy, wistful. And then it dawns on her and her heart slams up into her throat.

Clementine is flirting with her.

“Oh.” She breathes. 

Or tries to, at least. It feels like her guts are trying to crawl up into her lungs and her heart is tumbling down and trying to fall out of her ass. Clementine; her _best friend_ , Clementine, is flirting with _her_ trash lesbian ass and now her brain is short-circuiting and dissolving into a full-blown panic.

And then it’s like liquid adrenaline replaces all of her blood when she finds herself locking eyes with Clementine. Her heart pounds in her ears and throbs in her throat and her thoughts hurtle her past any rush of excitement or panic that she has ever felt before. “I… Thank you?”

Clementine chuckles, the light sound rumbling sweetly in her throat and Violet can’t find her voice anymore. Her cheeks flush hot and pink and her stomach sinks heavily into her boots and the next thing she is aware of is the shy and gentle press of soft lips against the tip of her nose and Clementine’s words breathing over her eyelashes. “You’re adorable when you’re nervous, Vi.”

It’s painfully obvious that Clementine is nervous too. It’s in the way that she breathes. The quick little breaths that come rapid and shallow from her lips as she retreats and in the way her pulse throbs in her temples when she feels Violet’s fingers slide through her curls to cradle the back of her head. Clementine takes comfort knowing that Violet’s breathing comes to her just as shakily as her own and she figures that the blonde’s heart is tripping equally as fast when her lips find and brush hers. The touch is soft but not innocent, passionate but not firey or intense. It’s a connection of one heart to another, one mind understanding and uniting with kin.

It’s a touch that Clementine doesn’t want to end. Nor does she want Violet to pull away either and whines when she does. But her disappointment is fleeting as Violet’s lips brush a soft touch beneath her ear and she shivers when the blonde’s voice rasps against her skin, deeper and darker than before. “So, uh… where does this leave us?”

“Well,” Clementine pulls back and touches her fingers to Violet’s lips. Smiling softly when they purse a kiss against the tips before she runs them down along the blonde’s angled jaw and down her throat. Feeling the way that Violet’s oesophagus bobs when she swallows beneath her touch until her fingers settle on Violet’s sternum between her breasts where she can feel the skipping of the heart inside her chest. “Your wallet might be happy knowing that I think I’m done cruising the dating scene.”

Violet’s head tilts, her mouth curling up on one side. “Oh?”

Clementine grins. “Yeah.” She fists her hand into the fabric of Violet’s top and tugs, dragging Violet so close that their lips touch with every word spoken. “But I think my _girlfriend’s_ wallet might get pissy when it realizes that it’s gotta cough up sometimes when I wanna go on dates with her.”

Violet tries to respond, to offer a response before Clementine’s mouth seals over hers and she’s lost to her whimpers and the bold press of Clementine’s tongue dipping between her teeth. And this time, when they pull apart they are both aware just how their relationship has changed and neither can deny that it’s a thrilling progression.

Leaning forward to press her forehead to Clementine’s, Violet works a trail of soft kisses over smooth, tender lips, grinning at the gentle little sounds that shiver through Clementine’s breaths. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I think it’ll manage.”


End file.
